


A String of Bedded Wenches

by Silent_So_Long



Series: Bedded Wenches [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Porn Battle, Pseudo-Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Porn Battle XIV (Fiery Fourteen) </p><p>Prompt word: voyeurism</p>
            </blockquote>





	A String of Bedded Wenches

Loki’s steps were quiet against the stone flooring of Thor’s bedroom, feet placed carefully upon the flags in an attempt to maintain an even displacement of his weight. His cape moved about his slender body, heavily weighing down upon his shoulders; it seemed to anchor him, rather than pose a hindrance to his balance. Firelight flickered nearby, sending its warm glow over the room, glinting against glass, stone and metal alike; its warm glow touched Loki’s skin like the caress of a lover, yet not quite so tenderly as the myriad ways in which Thor would touch him. The light of the fire was invasive, illuminating his passage despite the fact that he was attempting to not step out of the shadows. 

He could hear the sounds of Thor nearby, deep, guttural groans of pleasure rumbling in the other’s unseen chest, interspersed with deep gasps, sent shuddering through the air. Loki could hear the sound of flesh against flesh, and wondered, with a all-consuming bolt of jealousy just which harlot Thor was laying with that night. That Loki wasn’t the only one exclusive to Thor's bed wasn’t a secret, yet it didn’t mean that Loki could bear the slight lightly at the best of times. He, after all, had had his own fair share of lovers in the past, yet not, admittedly, as many as Thor, and definitely none since Thor. Loki wondered if half the conquests Thor boasted about were fabrications intended to make him jealous; the way that Thor laughed in his face when Loki spat and threatened to curse every last one of Thor’s bedded wenches seemed to further confirm Loki‘s suspicions. 

Loki stopped just shy of being detected, yet still within clear sight of Thor’s bed. Thor himself, surprisingly to Loki, was alone, hand stroking furiously at his own, painfully erect cock, that long shaft disappearing and appearing again from between long, calloused fingers. Loki bit back a desperate noise of want; his body thrummed with any number of sense memories of that same cock buried deep inside him, as they rocked together innumerable times in nights past. 

He watched, as Thor writhed upon the bed, toes flexing on occasion, as deep groans grew louder and more urgent in their intensity, as Thor drew nearer to his climax. Thor’s eyes were closed, lips parted, chest heaving with the pleasure that Loki could feel beating and washing over his skin; Thor, in sexual abandonment, was quite a beautiful sight to behold. Loki couldn’t tear his eyes from the other, at the way the firelight glinted against the expanse of bare skin and muscle on display, at the way that Thor was now furiously stroking himself, loud groans growing more pinched and erratic as he came closer to release. Thor’s hips stuttered once, twice, thrice from the bed and he came, releasing himself over his hand and abdomen in great white stripes, Loki’s name loud upon the other’s lips, repeated, repeated, repeated three times, in increasing volume. 

Loki couldn’t help the smirk that made its satisfied way across his face; despite his previous jealousies regarding a string of bedded wenches, it seemed as though it was Loki himself that was never far from Thor’s mind at the point of climax. He turned, all too ready to leave and disappear into his own rooms, when Thor spoke, voice rough with residue desire. 

“I know you’re there, brother,” he said, and Loki stopped in his tracks to throw an almost guilty look over his shoulder. 

Thor’s gaze was resting with resolute strength upon him, yet Thor did not look angry; instead, he looked curious, and languidly sated as he stared at Loki from the depths of his mussed sheets and pillows. 

“You put on quite a show, brother,” Loki said, turning back again, yet deigning to approach.

“It was no show, Loki,” Thor said, sounding almost hurt at that. 

Loki stopped himself from sneering; he could see in Thor’s eyes the very real tenderness that the other man felt for him, despite everything, and all the insults and the tricks that Loki often poured down upon his head. Loki sighed in defeat, knowing that this was a battle he couldn’t possibly hope to win; beneath Thor’s very obvious devotion to him, he was lost. 

“Why do you persist in taking so many wenches to your bed, when you could satisfy yourself with me?” Loki asked, as he finally approached and perched on the side of Thor’s bed.

When Thor laid his clean hand upon his thigh, Loki didn’t pull away, nor did he acknowledge the very obvious way that Thor was petting him. 

“I take no wenches into my bed, brother. I thought you knew this,” Thor said, and his tone was one of genuine bafflement. 

“And this coming from the very god who boasts about every conquest to all who would listen,” Loki said, mockingly, voice dropping into a low and dangerous purr that inexplicably made Thor’s hips buck up from the bed in desire. 

“They are bottomless boasts, and empty claims,” Thor moaned, idly stroking himself again. “I only claimed as such to make you jealous. “

Loki harrumphed, yet didn’t reply, which was answer enough in and of itself. Thor chuckled, hand still idly stroking himself, in a brazen display of wanton sexuality that had Loki transfixed. 

“I can see my ploy worked well. It was always you that held my heart, brother, always,” Thor promised, and when his eyes met Loki’s, Loki could see the truth of the other’s statement shining within their depths.

Loki sighed; Thor always was the voice of truth held against his tongue of lies and the shining wonder of Asgard, against his dark passion play of revenge and cruel displays of power. Yet, in the face of Thor’s ever tender love, Loki could not reply with his usual sarcasm; instead, he laid one hand upon Thor’s, trapping the calloused skin against his thigh as he sighed. 

“Do not try and lie to the Liesmith again, brother. It does not become you,” he said, finally. “You have proved your point a thousandfold. I am a jealous god, and wish to have you for myself.” 

“And you have me,” Thor said. “And you can have me tonight, if you so wish.” 

“I do so wish,” Loki purred, even as he stood to undress.

Thor watched, hungry eyes raking over Loki’s lean body as the other divulged himself of the trappings of daily Asgardian life. When Loki finally lay with him, Thor proved his point of claiming him, again and again and again long into the night.


End file.
